


Wailing Thunder

by Alahnore



Series: Vesperian Myths [2]
Category: Tales of Vesperia
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-06
Updated: 2013-10-05
Packaged: 2017-12-28 13:46:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/992669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alahnore/pseuds/Alahnore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the war between Zaphias and Dahngrest, the Zaphian king sacrifices his daughter to bring about the divine destruction of Dahngrest. The god Phaeroh sends his son to be born a mortal man to rip Dahngrest from the inside out. Yet divine-mortal Flynn finds his heart hesitant when he’s so close to the Dahngrest prince, Yuri.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The room was quiet save for the crackle of a brazier’s flame. Ever burning, ever dancing, and ever consuming the aer around it—voracious and vicious. It symbolized the patron god of Zaphias, the god meant to take its inherent violence out on Zaphias’ enemies. Yet one of their enemies remained standing… and was going to topple Zaphias soon, if something wasn’t done.

Princess Estellise did not like this god. She did not like its violence, its need for blood. Yet no other god would come to champion this city so long as people prayed to Phaeroh, and so she bowed her head in reverence to the flame.

“What do you pray for, child?”

Estellise raised her head, looking over her shoulder to see her stepfather walk into the chamber. Seeing him clad in war regalia and not that of peaceful robes made her heart sink. Alexei was a good man, a good ruler… but even she could see the strain this war had on him. He loved his kingdom as much as she did, and in his eyes was a dark despair she wished she could heal.

“I pray for the end of this war.” Estellise said honestly, watching her stepfather kneel next to her. “For the end of this war and for the innocent blood to stop being shed. For happiness of the people and prosperity.”

Alexei beamed at her, one arm coming to wrap around her almost protectively. Although he married into her family and was not her birth father, Alexei was proud of her regardless. Estellise was good, just and innocent. Pure.

That she should suffer this war…

“We all pray for that.” Alexei soon replied, his voice low in the presence of the holy fire. “Phaeroh cannot be deaf when thousands cry out to him the same wish.”

“So why does he do nothing?” Estellise asked, even as she shifted to accept the king’s embrace. “Why does Lord Phaeroh watch us suffer? Shouldn’t he protect us? Why would a patron god let his people die…? Why would any god condone death at all?”

Alexei raised his other hand to pet the back of Estellise’s head, coaxing her to resting it on his armored shoulder. “Phaeroh and other gods work in ways we can hardly comprehend.” Alexei said patiently. “They may need us to worship them, but we need them for more than simple protection. Sometimes… even the gods need payment.”

“Why? We’ve bled enough! What more could he want?”

Alexei shook his head, trying to keep her calm with his own low voice and affectionate touch. “Daughter… would you give your everything to end this war?”

Estellise raised her head, looking confused. “Of course I would, father. Wouldn’t everyone? Wouldn’t you?”

Alexei looked over her face, so much like her mother’s, and his heart felt ready to burst. Before emotion could show too clearly on his face he embraced the princess tightly, his hand at the back of her head pressing her to his shoulder again.

“I would.” He said, the strain on his voice imploring Estellise to return the hug. “I would give my everything to see this kingdom experience peace again. That’s our duty, daughter, as its rulers.”

“I know, father. So let us give our everything.”

Alexei gritted his teeth, and then slowly relaxed. “My everything.” He whispered.

Estellise relaxed when her stepfather did, smiling a bit. Their god may be a bloodthirsty tyrant, but at least Alexei was a good man. He’d find a way… he always did. It’s what she recalled her mother fondly saying, many a time—Alexei always found a way to bring happiness to the people. He’d be the perfect king. She felt safe and happy then, being with the man who might not have conceived her, but was more of a father to her than the man who did.

Alexei clutched his daughter close. The war had claimed her mother, her brother, and even his own newborn son. War was no worshipper though, and its sacrifices went nowhere.

“My everything,”

He raised his hand to the back of Estellise’s neck, as if to pet her hair again, but in a quick motion he slammed the sacrificial needle through her neck and up the base of her head. Estellise tensed for only a second, and a moment later she was limp in his arms, claimed by death.

War was no worshipper, but Alexei was. He swore to give his everything to Phaeroh, if he would just end this war.  


_O great god, please bestow power upon me._   
_O great god, please protect me._   
_Let this prayer be offered, from dawn til dusk;_   
_Let this sacrifice be offered,_   
_The life of this dear child…_

Swords sang as they tore through chainmail and flesh, giving rise to a chorus of agonized screams. So was the lullaby war offered, and only the dead were left to sleep. Flocks of arrows colored the sky as they soared through the air, piercing clouds before piercing hearts and necks; the ground was once a vibrant green, the water a lovely blue, but all was colored the deep pigment of blood.

Phaeroh flew invisible across the skies, witnessing the carnage with little more than neutrality. Men and women of Zaphias died by the scores, as men and women of Dahngrest died by the handfuls; this war would end within the next decade with Dahngrest the winner, the god knew this much.

With the fresh taste of maiden blood on his tongue, the god of war shot through the sky and over the battlefields. Across the ocean, where ships sank and the handmaidens of Undine claimed the drowning mortals, Phaeroh flew quickly. Gods had all the time in the war, but not humans, no. Poor, poor humans who would commit the gravest of sins in hopes it would result in the most powerful of wishes.

Of course, that is usually how it worked. Gods fed on the sins of man and in turn gave blessings, just so the fools would sin again.

Soon Phaeroh hovered above the spires that made up the city of Dahngrest, the enemy kingdom. Cloaked in magic and aer the god flew over to the nobility’s district, and turned his head, listening for the sickening noises of copulation. Finding it soon enough the god descended into the house and into the body of the man.

Temporarily infused with the god the man continued his joining to his wife, and soon in the end it was not his own seed he sowed within her. Made fertile by the blood of the princess, Phaeroh implanted the first aspect of his plan to destroy this city from the inside.

The deed done, Phaeroh left the man’s body and ascended back to heaven, his son’s soul deposited in mortal coils. Once more upon the clouds above the world, Phaeroh dropped the illusion of magic and aer and bellowed to the world below, his voice like thunder.

“Twenty one years, shall ye mortals continue thy pathetic conflict! Twenty one years of blood, twenty one years of despair! And so shall it be, then, that the sovereignty of Zaphias reign supreme as the rabble of Dahngrest shall sink beneath the waves!”


	2. Chapter 1

They were on the cusp of victory, and the entire city knew it. They were simply waiting for Zaphias to wave the flag of surrender at this point; their navy had fallen, and although they fiercely defended what land they still held, bit by bit Dahngrest was gaining ground. It was saddening to see dedicated soldiers fall for a hopeless cause and for a careless king, but either they died or joined them. Raven knew better than to feel more than pity and extend more than cursory mercy.

At least he did when he was able to take to the battlefield, but these days it seemed he did more lordly things than fighting. The fact made him uneasy, simply because this was a responsibility he had little to no interest in. Normally, he let his wife handle the affairs of the house simply because she was attentive enough to while he handled the soldiers and went to war. But since that battle years ago…

Raven shook his head, trying to dispel the memory. He can’t even begin to wonder why Emperor Alexei spared his life and let him crawl out of that hellhole of a battlefield with just a stab wound to his heart. Some said he did it in hopes Raven would bleed out and die slowly, but Raven was skeptical of that. Something _made_ Alexei hold back, and that look on the Emperor’s face was something Raven would never forget.

Not that he ever could, and he absently rubbed over his chest, feeling the hard jeweled surface of his blastia heart.

He had just taken up his pen again when he heard the commotion downstairs—a chorus of cheers and clapping. He knew what it was, and straightening his desk up a bit, got to his feet and carefully made his way out. If he stepped just right, he won’t have to limp.

He waited at the top of the stairs as his wife strolled through the foyer and into the open room into view, her armor and lance still dirty and bloodied, but she herself smirking. Raven took the chance he had to gaze her over, enjoying the fierce beauty as she let the steward take some of her easier to remove layers and weapon. When she gazed up the stairs, her smirk became a softer smile.

“I take it you’ve kept up with your work,” Judith joked as she undid the straps of her helmet, pulling it off so her hair could fall free, the bindings that once held it in a bun having long since loosened.

“For the most part,” Raven replied, carefully making his way down the dozens of steps. Honestly, why the hell did they have so many stairs? “Is the boy not with you?”

“Of course not,” Judith laughed, handing the helmet off. “He gave report and took off with the prince.”

Raven sighed once he made it to the bottom of the stairs, rubbing the back of his neck. “That boy’s going to get in trouble with the Don if he keeps acting like no one realizes what’s going on.”

Judith stepped up to him, offering her arm to him even if she knew Raven wouldn’t take it. “They’re only eighteen, let them fool around,” she admonished him lightly. “Besides, they’re a powerful pair. Not once did we lose when they fought with the armies. And the Don has turned a blind eye to it—given Prince Yuri isn’t really in line to the throne unless some freak accident occurs, he really isn’t all that upset.”

“I don’t think he’d have the right to be anyway,” Raven replied, of course refusing her offer of support. He could stand a while yet. “Flynn’s practically won this war for him. And I don’t think it’s any secret he’s stronger than the Don as well… if Flynn was any less than how we raised him…”

Judith began to walk back up the stairs, and Raven followed her, mentally cursing the stairs but at the same time grateful he could still even climb stairs. “It’d be good for our family anyway to have strong ties to the Don’s line. You’re not all that upset yourself, either.”

Raven laughed. “I wouldn’t mind Flynn continuin’ the line, but if he’s happy like this well… I can’t tell him no either.”

“Exactly. Anyway, let’s not worry about the boys. You’re going to help me get out of this armor.”

“Is that an order?”

“Yes.”

Raven laughed, but he wasn’t going to refuse.

_And thus, the hectic days went on.  
One day, God’s Child met the Prince by chance._

Dahngrest really was a cramped city, something Flynn found himself cursing almost every time he returned from the open battlefield. But it was home, the place he returned to and cherished, the country he swore to protect. Every month he left it, ever since he was a paltry fifteen, to fight in a war that had raged longer than he had been alive. At first, even if he had proven to be a powerful asset, he resented everything about it. The war, the loss of good men and women for seeming no reason… well. He still resented it of course, but the older he got, he realized he truly had to protect his home. If he didn’t… if the Zaphians reached it…

Well, better them than his homeland. And most certainly better them than Yuri.

He did not like the fact the youngest prince insisted on fighting in the war as well, but it wasn’t like anyone could stop him. The rumor was Yuri was also blessed, much like Flynn, with great power and fortitude. Flynn could win battles on his own, but when Yuri had officially joined forces with him their side suffered even fewer losses. This led to each battle being won with more good men and women going home to their families… like his mother.

“I still can’t thank you enough.” Flynn whispered, holding Yuri tight in his arms. “You saved my mother. I was… I would have been…”

“I said you’re welcome about fifty-four hundred times, Flynn,” Yuri laughed softly, pushing at Flynn to loosen up a bit. Being held was nice… but not against armor. “We’re all on the same side; we all got each other’s backs.”

“Just let me thank you.” Flynn huffed, but he did let Yuri go.

The prince slipped out of his arms and toward the door, making sure it was properly locked. Not that anyone dared entered his quarters uninvited. Not even his older siblings. Henry had learned that lesson the hard way. That finished, Yuri will then proceed to nonchalantly strip out of his armor, letting the pieces fall to the floor.

Flynn felt the urge to snap at the blatant disregard for his armor and uniform, but that was just how Yuri was. Ever since they were little, Flynn could remember Yuri did what he wanted; the man didn’t even have to be a prince to do it either. By the time Yuri spoke again, he was stripped down to the underclothes.

“I think you’ve thanked me enough.” Yuri pushed the pile aside with his foot, walking up to Flynn in that usual proud stride of his. “We’ve other things to do than you thanking me over and over.”

Flynn leaned back just slightly as Yuri’s hands began to unlatch his armor, but he won’t stop him. “Like what?”

“Well, celebrate victory for one.”

“A victory we knew we’d have.”

Yuri rolled his eyes, yanking off Flynn’s gloves. “Hey, don’t trivialize what we’ve accomplished. We’re a step closer to winning.” He tossed the gloves to his pile, and Flynn fought the urge to go after them. “And we’re going to officially tell my dad about us.”

“What?” Flynn felt his eyes widen, and he grabbed Yuri’s hands before they went for his belt. “Yuri… isn’t it too soon?”

Yuri’s eyes narrowed. “How is it too soon? I should tell him as soon as possible. We’re eighteen… marriageable age. The sooner the better, otherwise him and your own old man might try to marry us off.”

“But…”

“Plus we just won a major battle. This’ll put everyone in a good mood, and not even us coming out will dampen it. Hell they might be even happier! You’re becoming a hero to Dahngrest, and everyone knows when a hero finds a soulmate it’s something to celebrate.”

Flynn could feel the heat rise to his cheeks. Yuri hadn’t referred to him as a _soulmate_ before, but it truly did feel like that. He felt close to Yuri… closer than anyone. They fought together, laughed together, and suffered together all their lives. But something didn’t feel right about telling the world just yet. He wanted to—he wanted to shout to gods how much he adored the man in front of him, even if sometimes he found himself punching him on bad days. Or being punched by.

“Not yet.” Flynn insisted. At Yuri’s soured look, Flynn tried to kiss him, but the prince turned his head. “Yuri… I know. But even if we’re winning, we can’t relax yet. When I tell the world… I want…” He could feel his cheeks darken more, but unless he gave a good reason, Yuri would not listen to him. “When we tell the world, Yuri, I want to turn to you and ask you to marry me. In the same breath even.”

That snapped Yuri back to look at him, his own eyes wide. “Wh-what? Wait a minute, Flynn—”

“But after the war. And we both know that’s soon.”

“You’re just assuming I’m going to say yes??”

Flynn smiled confidently. “We’re _soulmates_.”

Having his own word tossed back at him threatened to embarrass him, but even if he purposely flunked it, Yuri _did_ pay attention in his old etiquette classes. He managed to not blush, but he did have to glance away. “Are you promising that?”

Flynn never made promises. That was something he just didn’t feel comfortable doing, never knowing if he could keep his word. He had refused even the Don when it came to promising, so such a statement made Flynn pause. The war was slowly ending, yes, and Dahngrest stood to be the victor. His country would triumph within a few years’ time he figured, and he had resolved to lead it to victory when he was promoted to Commandant of the main forces. But for all his power, Flynn was still human. He could die by the end.

Even still…

“Yes.” He decided. “I promise you, Yuri. When the war ends… I’ll stand with you. And then I’m going to tell the world I plan to marry you.” He paused, then chuckled. “I’ll ask properly, too.”

Yuri huffed. “Yeah, sure you will. I might say yes, _if_ you do.” But the prince was smiling, and Flynn knew he would.

He let Yuri’s hands go, and didn’t stop him from removing the rest of his armor off him. When the metal was cast aside, excess cloth followed, and when Flynn’s hands reached for Yuri, _all_ cloth was soon tossed aside.

They might not tell the Don officially yet, but they could still celebrate today’s victory.

_Was that blessing, was that disaster?_   
_The Prince and God’s Child learned the color of love._   
_He wished his happy days together would continue on forever…_


	3. Chapter 2

The days bled as readily as the soldiers did, forming ruddy pools of days and weeks; flowing into the rivers of months. Time dripped on steadily, and the war raged just as long. Although victory was all but ascertained, it seemed it would yet be a bit more.

Flynn wished it would end now, so he could take his place off the battlefield and join his hands with Yuri’s officially.

Although the rumors continued to fly, they had yet to outright confirm or deny their relationship. Flynn did not like to keep secrets from the Don or his father, and he knew they knew, but he also knew they thought of it as temporary, a fling. How far from the truth they were! If not for this war, Flynn would have asked for Yuri’s hand long ago.

But then again, if not for this war, he’d have no chance with such a demand. And he would not earn Yuri’s love with his father’s blood.

Maybe it was a young fool’s plan, but Flynn had one. He would win this war for Dahngrest, and once he was made a hero publically, he would refuse any and all monetary rewards. Instead, taking Yuri’s advice, when all were high off his achievements he planned to ask the Don then and there for his blessing for them to be wed.

Maybe it would work. Maybe it won’t. But he would wait until they got there. The one thing that gave him solace was the fact, come what may, he and Yuri would be together somehow. In this land torn by war, it was the only thing that drove him to victory now.

Flynn won every battle he was placed in. He led the troops, he saved as many as possible and he devised strategies that always resulted in victory. When Yuri fought with him they were completely unstoppable; Flynn figured by the time he was twenty-three, Alexei would be dead and Zaphias fallen.

And he would be married to the man he loved above all else.

“Not just yet, young man,” Judith grabbed him by the back of his uniform collar before Flynn could escape to his tent. “You and I are going to have a talk.”

“Captain…” Flynn started, but Judith smacked the back of his head.

“Not that sort of talk.” She said, grabbing his arm and pulling him away. Flynn looked back to his tent helplessly, barely seeing Yuri peeking out and looking highly amused.

It was so like him to let Flynn go off into the jaws of death…

Some soldiers snickered as they watched the mother and son duo march across the camp—or, Judith was marching, and Flynn was dragged along like the chagrined boy he was. When they finally reached the captain’s tent and it was closed off to the world, Flynn dropped the military formality and gave his mother his best puppy eyes to avoid whatever might have incurred her wrath.

The laugh he got reminded him that puppy eyes worked on Raven, not Judith.

“Chin up, boy,” Judith said as she flicked at his chin to make him do just that. “I’m not here to yell at you.”

“When someone, especially a woman, says ‘we’re going to have a talk’…”

“Like you actually know what that means,” the lancer sauntered across her tent, peeling off armored gloves so she could grab a disposable cup to fill with water. “No, we’re going to talk about the prince.”

Flynn frowned. “I know they say to treat him like any soldier, but he’s the prince! I can’t let him get hurt—”

Judith splashed the cupful of water at him, hitting Flynn in the face with it. He yelped in surprise, sitting up straighter. “What did I tell you about assuming?” she scolded him. “Everyone here is expected to support Prince Yuri and keep him from recklessly killing himself, that’s a given. No, we’re going to talk about your affair.”

Flynn grumbled under his breath, swiping at his face to push aside the water from his eyes. “What affair?”

Judith was already pouring another cup of water, not to drink but to throw at him in case he smart-mouthed her again. “Don’t play stupid, Flynn. You might keep your father guessing, but do you really think you can hide things from _me_?”

And that was the cincher. Flynn knew he could hide absolutely _nothing_ from his mother, so he settled into his seat and sighed. “It’s not an affair.” He said after a moment. “Affairs are brief… often emotionless. It is… so much more than that.”

Pleased he was finally coming clean with it, Judith actually began to drink the water. “You are in love?” she questioned. “You’re sure? You’ve only just turned nineteen, Flynn.”

“What’s that have to do with anything?” Flynn frowned even more deeply. “I would think by now you’d realize age is nothing when it comes to me, mother.”

Fair enough. The boy was winning battles at fifteen after all. And even younger, his own father took his advice, when Raven was able to fight. “And the prince?” she went on.

“I trust Yuri with my heart and life. He says he loves me and I’ll believe him, gods damn my soul.”

Judith finished her cup and set it aside, crossing her arms carefully. “It’s not as hidden as you think,” she finally said after several silent moments. “The Don has approached your father, and our House will move within one of the wings of the castle in a fortnight, just before our battalion returns to Dahngrest proper.”

Flynn’s eyes widened. “What? That’s… But that only happens when…”

“When a noble family has done something damn amazing or to accommodate a royal’s married family.” Judith finished for him. “Flynn, you two are as obvious as the sun. It’s gotten to the point we know it’s there, but it’s been there so long we’ve come to expect it. This move all but confirms two things: the Don knows you are the catalyst that gives us the advantage in this war, thus allowing us to win… and that Prince Yuri will have you and no one else.”

Flynn’s face colored, both from how she phrased that and from the underlying admittance she left unspoken. The Don was a practical man, and awards did not come from him lightly—he could easily just give Flynn and his family several honors and coffers if he was just going to thank him for his role in the war. But to move their family into the castle meant the Don _knew_ , and that he was _approving_. He was _expecting_ Flynn to approach him with his request.

Everything was going right. Flynn didn’t even have to outright win this war single-handedly to do it.

“I have to tell Yuri,” Flynn blurted out excitedly, standing out of his chair quickly only to be pushed back down by Judith. “But…!”

“Later.” She insisted. “This is in part, according to your father, the Don’s birthday gift to Yuri. Before we sail back to Dahngrest, we’ll stop by the Temple of Zaude, and that’s when we’ll get the official notice.”

Flynn smiled widely. The Temple of Zaude was a conquered city-island that he and Yuri himself had led their forces to win. In the center was a massive temple, and they were the only ones who ever dared to reach the very top. It had become their favorite place, and each time they docked there for a few days, the couple always ascended the temple to spend time alone together.

That would be the perfect place. And Judith knew it.

“Not a word,” she warned him before motioning with her hands for him to go. “If Yuri asked we talked about your father or something.”

That was hardly a good excuse, but Flynn really didn’t care. Yuri’ll see through it no matter what, but this was a secret he could keep.

**_~*~*~*~*~*~*~_ **

Yuri loved the view from Zaude. He could see the world, it felt like, and the endless ocean that stretched before him would forever be a sight to behold. Especially now, with the sun beginning to set and coloring the sky and sea the color of fire. In the distance, he could see the top spires of Zaphias—in another direction, he could make out the outline of Dahngrest. This was the center of the world, and at the height of it where no one else dared were him and his soulmate.

“Okay,” Yuri laughed, spinning around under the massive Apatheia core that powered the temple. Flynn came up close to him, grasping his arms before Yuri’s temporary dizziness made him fall. “What’s been on your mind these past few days?”

Flynn had intercepted the royal missive in his excitement, withholding the present from Yuri for a bit longer. Of course he’d give the Don his proper due, but he thought it’d be a bit more… impacting if Yuri heard it from him, received the official word from him.

“Remember my promise?” Flynn asked, his hands sliding down Yuri’s arms to his hands and grasping there.

“Which one?” Yuri teased, smirking. “You’ve promised me the world at this point.”

Flynn glanced out to the horizon, grinning almost smugly. “Well, here’s the world,” he quipped, and Yuri laughed.

“That’s one promise. What one are you thinking of?”

Flynn raised one of Yuri’s hands to his lips, kissing the back of it. “At the end of this war, I’m going to ask for your hand in marriage,” he recounted, smiling once he lowered Yuri’s hand. “And then I’m going to make you the happiest man in the world.”

“I think you’ve already done that last bit,” Yuri chuckled, bringing Flynn’s hand up to return the gesture. As always, between them, things must be even and equal. “So, what about it? You’re not about to ask now, are you? The war’s still going on…”

“I know.” Flynn stepped closer to him, keeping their hands clasped and pressing his forehead to Yuri’s. He lowered his voice as his eyes stared intently into Yuri’s own. “But it’s going to happen.”

“You sound so sure. I mean I’ll make it happen of course, but my father might protest some.”

Flynn smiled brilliantly, lightly kissing Yuri’s lips for a brief moment. “He won’t.” he whispered. “When we get back to Dahngrest… you’ll find my family has moved into the east castle wing.”

Yuri’s eyes widened, his lips parting slightly, like he meant to say something; yet Flynn’s excitement was too much to contain. He was so close, and Yuri’s lips were just too tempting, so before Yuri could utter a word Flynn locked their lips together. He let Yuri’s hands go just to embrace him, pulling the dark-haired man closer to him.

Flynn’s arms became a prison, and Yuri leaned closer to his warm as he got over his shock and returned the kiss. With some maneuvering, he was able to get his own arms around Flynn, imprisoning him just the same. For them both, it was a prison they were happy to remain trapped in.

When their lips pulled away, they didn’t go far. Flynn opened his eyes just slightly, as did Yuri, and soon they were caught in a gaze that held more beauty and amazement then the view of Zaude and the world. In Flynn’s arms, in those dark eyes, he held his world and source of happiness. He could feel it in every fiber of his being as he was mesmerized by Yuri’s eyes, the love between them and the bond they had forged over years and battles. They belonged together.

And soon they’ll have made every possibly bond together, locked together forever. He could hardly wait.

Words remained scarce between them as they stayed like that; staring into each other’s eyes and holding each other close. Over and over their lips met in kisses and parted only centimeters for passing breaths. As Yuri looked into Flynn’s blue eyes, he realized he truly was looking at the other part of his soul. This man would become his… and he himself, Flynn’s. In that moment of realization, the war didn’t exist. Royalty, military, titles… the mundane world itself faded in that moment. Right here was everything. It was _terrifying_ , but at the same time, Yuri found something perfect in this balance of being empowered and vulnerable in Flynn’s arms.

That was love, he had learned.

_But, ah, how unfortunate…  
Such was a wish never to be granted._


	4. Chapter 3

Yuri spent his twentieth birthday on the battlefield.

His celebratory wine was replaced by splashes of blood, the feast exchanged for corpses. Fighting was his party, but victory! Victory was the sweet cake at the end, and when he got it, he basked in it. This was the first battle in many years he had lead and won, _without Flynn_.

They had needed him elsewhere, on another battlefront. Why concentrate their obviously blessed warriors together when they could divide and conquer? Yuri didn’t necessarily like it, but now that he lounged triumphantly upon the seat a Zaphian captain once did he felt a bit better about it all. An entire fortress of Zaphians put down, and he only had a handful of deaths, maybe half a score more injured. Although he loved Flynn, it was good to be out of his shadow for a while.

“We found several civilians in the lower sections,” a knight reported as he entered the commander’s room. “All Zaphians. Your orders?”

Yuri glanced up with a bored look, but even then the knight had fought enough with him that it was an act. “Keep a watch on them. Ensure none have any weapons or poison or means of magic.” Yuri paused a moment, then dropped the act and leaned over the table a bit. “We do _not_ harm civilians.”

The knight just nodded, marching out of the room to relay the orders. Yuri frowned at the man’s back and the shutting door, waiting several moments before motioning to another knight in the room with him. When she stepped forward, Yuri glanced to her.

“Make sure no one tries to pull anything.” He ordered her. The woman bowed to him before she too left the room, and finally Yuri was alone.

He kicked back in the seat, resting his boots on top of the tactics table. A night here and they’d move on, keep Zaphias on the run as far as their border. After that he should have enough soldiers and commanders to station here on a permanent basis and keep the enemy in their lands until the final plan was finally executed.

If all went well, this war would be over by next year. Yuri smiled up at the ceiling, closing his eyes for a moment. It was about damn time.

He might like no longer being in Flynn’s military shadow, but at the moment, he’d admit to himself he missed holding Flynn in his arms.

**_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~_ **

Flynn never felt more disturbed than he did at the moment, staring down at the still-bloody field from the outpost tower. Had the enemy just given up? Even for him this victory had been far… far too easy to obtain. And from the missive from Yuri, he had similar results.

If they had given up, why didn’t Zaphias just wave the flag of surrender?

The blond walked away from the sight, heading down the tower to walk off his thoughts. Yet every step seemed to just bring more. Why would they throw themselves to the slaughter? Was official surrender that unbearable, that the Zaphians would rather die?

Some soldiers thought this was a good sign, but Flynn was troubled. It was one thing to cut down an enemy attempted to kill you with all of his power, but these men and women weren’t even _trying_. Flynn stopped in an empty hall, leaning against the wall for the moment as the battle came back to him. Scores of enemy soldiers fell by his sword and magic. Each of them, staring up at him with absolutely nothing in their eyes; remembering healers not even healing their own men, archers aiming for well-armored soldiers rather than vulnerable units. Flynn had even purposely left himself open, but not one soldier bothered trying to capitalize on it.

That wasn’t a battle, it was just slaughter.

Flynn pressed a hand over his chest, feeling it hurt. War brought death… he was raised knowing that. But Raven and Judith, they raised him knowing the difference between fighting for country and murder. This entire battle… all of those men and women… he wasn’t fighting them. He just murdered them.

The entire fight played out in his mind. Countless times he could have changed his order, taken the enemy alive. But he hadn’t noticed, not until now, that the Zaphians fought with no hope or pride. They fought just enough to rile the Dahngrest forces into killing them. A part of Flynn was disgusted that Alexei would allow his soldiers to just die like that.

And then he felt no better than Alexei, because it was his sword that fell them.

Flynn’s hand moved from his chest to cover his eyes for the moment, his head feeling like it was going to explode at the realization. Yes, they were the enemy… and more oft than not, the enemy had to die. But was good was it when said enemy wouldn’t even properly fight? Or was this some crazy plan of Alexei’s, to sacrifice humans to wreak havoc on the Dahngrest forces’ minds? The man did supposedly kill his own daughter…

And if it were a tactic, was it going to be used again? Would every battle from here on be nothing more than butchery?

What if they weren’t even soldiers? What if Alexei was sending civilians into these hopeless battles so he could conserve his actually trained forces? These soldiers hardly defended themselves…

He couldn’t do it. Flynn ran down the hall, trying to outrun the thoughts, but they were pricking at his mind like needles. When did he stop being a commander and started being a killer? In hindsight, was there a difference at all?

And behind all of this, Flynn was disgusted at the fact a part of him knew that in the end, that in a war one side must completely die, so he might as well start now.

It was moments like these, where Flynn doubted his leadership and choices, that he hated these times of separation from Yuri. Not even his mother was here to put these thoughts down, and Flynn couldn’t bring himself to trouble one of his soldiers. They needed him to be strong, to be their temporary god of battle while they put their lives down for their home and kingdom. But they weren’t even putting their lives down if the enemy wasn’t even…

He tried not to slam the door, but the sound still echoed through the halls. Better he lock himself elsewhere with these thoughts than show weakness to those who looked to him for strength and power. Not that they needed it anymore, at this rate.

Flynn wasn’t a man to rely on gods, unlike the Zaphians. But even still, to whatever god might listen, he prayed for an end to this war. The entire time he dressed down he prayed, all the way to the point he laid in bed.

_I’d give my everything to end this war._

Oddly enough, he felt a wave of comfort after finishing his fervent prayers. He wasn’t sure if a god listened, or he was just exhausted, but it was enough to quiet the thoughts and let him sleep.

**_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~_ **

When his unit reached Zaude, Yuri immediately went up to the temple tower. To his relief, Flynn was there, waiting for him.

Yet when Yuri jogged over, Flynn didn’t turn from the horizon. Even as Yuri’s arms came around Flynn’s waist, his chin on the man’s shoulder, Flynn didn’t budge. There was a stony look to his eyes, and Yuri wasn’t sure what brought it on. Very slowly he pulled away from Flynn, about to speak when Flynn suddenly moved.

Yuri didn’t flinch. He didn’t cry out, didn’t put his arms up in defense like any sensible, combat-instinctive and trained man would have. He let Flynn get his arms around him, crush him in an embrace and did little to stop Flynn from burying his face against his neck. Yuri simply worked his arms back around Flynn and let the silence continue.

Flynn’s tight hold never faltered. He kept Yuri close, and it was like he was trying to impart something to him through the contact. Yet Yuri could hardly think of what, exactly, that was. Was it that Flynn missed him? Did something happen?

“Flynn…” Yuri muttered. “I’m here.”

Those words shattered the silence no matter how quiet they were, and Flynn relaxed, pulling back to look over Yuri’s face. There was no lie there. It was a plain, simple truth: Yuri was here. Yuri would always be here.

If Flynn had anything to do with it, Yuri would be here forever.

“You’re right.” Flynn replied softly. “Sorry. I just… I’m tired. Tired of fighting. I want to go home… and I want to take your hand in mine and call you husband and just be with you…”

Yuri chuckled. Flynn was always so sweet, and such a romantic. Sometimes Yuri couldn’t stand it, but then again, it was nice to have someone say such things and mean it. “Soon,” Yuri said, smiling to him. “After those battles… I don’t think the war’ll last too much longer.”

“You’re right,” Flynn repeated. “It won’t.” He paused, looking uncomfortable for a moment, but then abruptly yet sweetly kissed Yuri’s lips for a moment. “No matter what happens, you’re the one person I’ll never hurt.”

The kiss was well received, but not the words. “What do you mean, Flynn? What happened?”

The composed look crumbled from Flynn’s face, and he raised a hand to gently brush aside some of Yuri’s hair to tuck behind his ear. “Sometimes… these battles… I just feel like I’m slaughtering people.” Flynn whispered. “I’m not fighting for our country’s continued freedom or peace… I’m just shedding blood. I don’t know who’s friend or enemy sometimes. If I’m so willing to kill people who hardly are able to defend themselves from me, I might… I could… We’re all humans. What’s it mean to be Zaphian, or Dahngrest…? What’s it matter? We all bleed red and…”

Understanding dawned on Yuri and he kissed Flynn quickly to stop those words. “Flynn, listen to me,” he whispered, repeatedly kissing his lips between words, “It’s almost over. You’re keeping your country liberated from the aggressors. They started this war. They’re fighting it to the bitter end. If we let our guard down… you know Alexei won’t stop. He’ll come for Dahngrest. He’ll kill everyone—men, woman, children, elders. The war is getting to you… you’re not a murderer.”

Flynn let out a heavy breath when Yuri finally stopped kissing and said nothing more, just embracing his love tightly again. Was it as simple as that?

Innocent blood was going to be spilled no matter what. Where was the justice, the validation, in any of it?

But wasn’t that the wish? To stop the innocent blood from flowing? In the end, he lied.

_He recalled his own mission,  
Which was no other than…_


	5. Chapter 4

Flynn lied.

It made him feel terrible to do so, but he lied to everyone and holed himself up in his room. Said he was ill, that he needed rest. The only person who stood up for him was Yuri, and that only made him feel even worse. Flynn _was_ ill… ill of heart.

_I am the son of Phaeroh._

The truth had come abruptly. He had foolishly prayed; let it go openly, so that any god could hear it. Ironic that his own true ‘father’ was the one to answer. In what he thought was exhaustion was divine will, and Flynn had fitfully dreamed.

No. It was no dream. It was a visit from the god himself.

_… to destroy the kingdom he loved._

Having received his son’s prayer, Phaeroh had returned to the mortal coils and descended into his heart. There the truth was awakened—not _planted_ ; Flynn could feel it come alive in him like any part of his soul. The true soul, that of the youngest divine son of Phaeroh, Ba’ul.

Ba’ul had been given a holy mission by his bloodthirsty father, and satiated by the blood of the Princess Estellise, Phaeroh pulled Ba’ul from heaven and implanted his soul into the womb of the warrior-woman Judith. From her and Raven’s union was a mortal boy born, of which they named Flynn. A mortal shell, carrying the holy soul and immense power of the young god Ba’ul… that was the truth of it.

It was a truth that made Flynn’s heart a twisted knot of confusion and fear. For once in his life— _this_ life—Flynn felt legitimate _fear_.

He tried to fight the truth, but once it was revealed there was no denying it. All of the victories, all of the amazing feats he had accomplished… they were due to the fact he wasn’t truly human. And to the fact Phaeroh had orchestrated this war since his conception.

“It is soon time, my son,” Phaeroh had said in the vision. “I had promised Zaphias victory within twenty-one years of receiving their princess’ soul. By next winter, Dahngrest will fall by your hand.”

“You’re mistaken,” Flynn argued. “This is my country. I love this kingdom!”

“Mortal rubbish. You remember your true name, your true form. Cast aside the alias of ‘Flynn’ in your heart, else it finds you dead. You are of mortal flesh now… you _can_ die.”

“Then strike me down,” Flynn declared. “It’s of your own flaw, _father_ , that I love this kingdom more than the so-called heavens.”

Phaeroh laughed. A part of Flynn didn’t even flinch, for it knew that laughter well. But the human part, the real ‘Flynn’ part, recoiled in horror. Something about that laugh struck him in such a way it made him want to cower. There was power there… a power Phaeroh was _not_ afraid to abuse.

“Either way you do this, Ba’ul, Dahngrest will fall.” Phaeroh said simply. “You can end the suffering early or let this fruitless war of attrition continue.”

Flynn’s brow furrowed. “What does that mean?”

Phaeroh laughed again, making Flynn’s skin crawl. “You have been wasting time!” Phaeroh said triumphantly. “I have safeguard the Zaphians has per my promise bought by the blood of the princess. They slumber peacefully behind barriers of blastia and my own magic while _you_ and Dahngrest bleed against phantoms.”

Flynn fought the urge to take half a step back, but the shock still ran through him and gripped his heart. Phantoms? They fought _phantoms_ —not real humans? But… phantoms could not bleed or cause others to bleed! “You’re lying.” He whispered. But deep down… Ba’ul knew.

Phaeroh was a god of war. Every element of it was his to manipulate, including the very participates. With a little blood and magic, Phaeroh was also a master of illusions. Every battle… for twenty years, every battle was false?

Maybe Flynn and Yuri won each battle… and maybe their casualty numbers were low. But for twenty years, just the amount of fights Flynn had fought, hundreds of citizens of Dahngrest had died. To _phantoms_.

For _nothing_.

And Flynn had led them all. He wasn’t murdering Zaphians… he was murdering his own people, a few at a time.

“The Zaphians have been calling these ‘The Sheltered Years.’ Already Alexei is poised to conquer what remains after you’re done.” Phaeroh went on. “If you’ve humanly mercy, I suggest exercising it before Alexei does.”

Even in his mind, Flynn could feel his heart ache, his hand coming up to press over his chest. Whose heart was it though? Flynn or Ba’ul?

“You lied.” Flynn whispered. “The Princess… she wanted no more innocent blood to be spilled in this war… but you lied! Your promise… it’s invalid, you did not adhere to the terms of the prayer!”

Phaeroh tipped his head a bit, then ruffled his wings. “Your mortal bindings are infuriating,” the god muttered. “The idea of ‘innocents’ is subjective, Ba’ul. None will know what the princess meant, but either way you look at it, there are no innocents in war.”

“Don’t you even suggest that—”

“Every child raised in either nation will look down upon the other.” Phaeroh interrupted. “Oh, don’t give me that look. There _are_ exceptions. But why would I value the few exceptions over the wellbeing of the whole? Everyone in Zaphias desires the downfall of Dahngrest in some fashion. Is that innocent? And Dahngrest is of no better.”

“An end to the war does not mean a downfall of a nation.” Flynn replied weakly. “Blood needn’t run…”

“Zaphias will not rest easily until Dahngrest is annexed into their nation. And Dahngrest is the same. Do not attempt to lecture me on human virtues, Ba’ul—I know them and their hypocrisy well. There _are_ no innocents in war. The prayer and promise stands, and you _will_ destroy Dahngrest from the inside.” Phaeroh’s eyes narrowed. “You are foolishly entwined with your mortal self. Disobey me and I shall use that to my advantage.”

Flynn’s eyes widened and he stared at the massive bird, causing him to cackle again. “Yes, I am so very aware of your pathetic attachment to one of the Dahngrest princes. Know this, Ba’ul: fail the destiny I have given you and the prince shall become mine to torture for eternity. He’ll be denied death and heaven, and you will watch. _That_ is a promise.”

“You… you can’t…”

“He is an enemy of Zaphias and would gladly spill their blood. He is my enemy. So yes, I _can_.” Phaeroh spread his wings wide, flapping once to lift off the imaginary ground. “Do not forget that I am a _god_ of this world, Ba’ul! Even if you fail me, I will send one of your brothers or do this myself. And unlike you, I have _no mercy_.”

Such conversations were becoming the normal between Flynn and Phaeroh in his sleep. The moment he lost consciousness, Phaeroh was there, reminding him. Taunting him.

Flynn could only fake illness for so long, and soon he was back amongst the people. The first one to be concerned was Yuri… it was always Yuri. Yuri always found him first, always noticed things about him first. How could Flynn be this Ba’ul, if Yuri was the other part of his soul?

Or was it… he _was_ Ba’ul, and Yuri was the soul that was meant to be the actual child Judith and Raven had?

Such thoughts got him nowhere. Actually, no thought gave him any progress of what to do. He felt unworthy to be near Yuri now, especially since it was because of him the prince was now in danger. A danger Flynn couldn’t compete with, protect him from. But Flynn had promised he’d never hurt Yuri.

Didn’t he promise he’d love this country? To lead it to victory? Flynn wanted nothing more than to throw this so called ‘holy mission’ aside and do what he himself promised. But even if he managed to free himself from his mortal shell, Ba’ul was still not as powerful as his father. As it were, things were hopeless. If Flynn didn’t do it, Phaeroh would destroy Dahngrest himself… and put Yuri into hell just to spite him.

Not only that, this war men and women were _dying_ for was for nothing. A phantom of magic and aer, even the battle scenery was fabricated. Now that he knew, Flynn could see it as he kept up the charade; the bodies his sword cut through weren’t real. Tiny, tiny little flaws he could now pick out that separated this falsehood from reality. These Zaphians weren’t real. But those of Dahngrest who died? They did die.

Flynn wondered where those souls went. His pathetic ark of damnation…

Days past as he struggled with this knowledge, trying to outsmart Phaeroh in some way, but wrapped in the cradle of mortal flesh made him easy to read for a god. Phaeroh began to intensify the conflict, actually make the phantoms fight better. ‘Alexei’s last push’ the Don had said.

Phaeroh’s bloodthirsty schemes, Flynn thought.

Anger was one of the first emotions that finally came up under the confusion and fear. Flynn swept across a battlefield, cutting down phantoms with a viciousness seen only in monsters. Limbs flew off bodies, heads rolled, and what was formal fighting was becoming slaughter. Flynn let all of his rage out of these phantoms, imagining each one sent some message to Phaeroh. Maybe they did.

They certainly sent a message to those who believed these to be real people.

“You’re scaring everyone,” Yuri said, trapping Flynn in the command room. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know.” Flynn whispered, and the way he looked was enough to shake Yuri out of his own anger. “I’m so tired, Yuri… so tired. I’ve fought all my life in the same war… against the same people… I’ve tried so hard not to hate them all. That somewhere in that kingdom across the ocean there’re good people…”

_There are no innocents in war._

Yuri came around the desk, and very slowly wrapped his arms around Flynn’s neck. At first the blond stiffened, almost withdrew, but the god in him was overtaken by the mortal soul’s distress. There was a small whine out Flynn before he returned the embrace, pressing his face to Yuri’s chest.

Yuri was going to say something. Maybe comfort him, but the words died when he felt wet warmth through his clothes. His dark eyes widened as he glanced down, noticing Flynn’s shoulders shaking; the blond held him tighter and grabbed fistfuls of Yuri’s vest. A moment later, the first sob came out, and Yuri could feel his heart shatter.

The air only held the sounds of Flynn’s soft crying and Yuri’s softer words of comfort, the prince’s fingers gently combing through Flynn’s hair. It was pathetic… so damn pathetic, but Flynn was soothed by Yuri’s touch, his words. This man was special… he was good. Maybe not innocent, but he was good, something Flynn didn’t want to lose; Yuri was Flynn’s everything. Ba’ul might not benefit from him, but Flynn… _Flynn_ needed him.

Yet while Flynn chose Yuri and his love, Ba’ul was bound to his father’s promise to the enemy. And in the end, Ba’ul knew any fate he gave to Dahngrest and Yuri would kinder than any Alexei or Phaeroh would.

Where were the days when love was holier than gods, where the bonds of the heart transcended that of immortality? Was it all just fairytale? Did such things truly exist? If there were no innocents, were there things like love?

There had to be. Flynn felt it so acutely with Yuri, especially now, held so lovingly like this. Phaeroh’s promise bound him, but Flynn had his own promise.

“I love you.” Flynn whispered when the tears finally subsided. “Forever… in life or death, Yuri. I’m yours.”

Yuri wasn’t sure what caused such strain on Flynn, but despite it, his reply had no hesitation. “I love you, Flynn—in life or death, always yours.”

Flynn released him, rose to his feet and claimed Yuri’s lips in a kiss. Full and deep, bursting with longing, love and despair; it scared Yuri, even as he returned the kiss and tried to take away the pain and replace it with his own love, his own hope and care. Yuri wasn’t one to always be so vulnerable like this but for Flynn, in this moment, he had to be.

Flynn knew that… he knew and he cherished it while he could. Yuri was his precious soulmate… he’d do anything for him to keep him safe, to keep him happy.

After that, Yuri saw another change in Flynn. He was back to his usual self—smiles and love, care and attentive. His fighting was back to formal and caring of human life instead of pure slaughter, and he could have sworn the entire nation breathed a sigh of relief when Flynn returned looking as proud as he normally did. But even as everyone wanted to believe he was back to normal, Yuri couldn’t. No one else was close enough to him to see it, but to Yuri, Flynn’s eyes held the most change. They were full of determination, but different from the usual he had seen Flynn with. It was almost as if they were someone else’s eyes.

Another battle came. Another battle won. Phantoms or not, Flynn led his armies with the same superb tactics and claimed yet another outpost just outside of Zaphias’ home borders. He only lost five soldiers, and every single phantom was put to the sword. From the outpost he stared at the spires of Zaphias, seeming so close. Maybe Alexei could see him from there. Would he know who he truly was?

Even if he did… Flynn knew it mattered little.

_At the peak of endless conflicts, he made up his mind._


	6. Finale

Flynn continued to fight this fruitless war.

Despite the knowledge that they fought against nothing, that these people died for nothing, he kept fighting. Because what else was he to do? To suddenly stop would arouse suspicion, and as much as it hurt to admit, his power is what kept the death rate down. Even if Yuri was powerful and brilliant in his own way, Flynn had the blessing of divinity to safeguard his men. Yuri had luck.

And Fate despised luck.

For another year Flynn marched out of Dahngrest to besiege the barrier of Zaphias. Yet even if it seemed like they were gaining ground, Flynn knew it was a farce. Nothing save another god could shatter the barrier of Zaphias that Phaeroh’s gift, the Sword Stair, had bestowed. The Zaphians continue to be cradled in the warmth of peace, dreaming of their destined victory as the men and women of Dahngrest held close to them a false sense of security.

Unlike before, however, Flynn did not fight on his birthday, or on Yuri’s. For their twenty-first, he spent the entire time with his beloved. Behind closed doors he held Yuri close, ran his hands over him lovingly as he kissed him with every ounce of devotion he had in his immortal soul. Having Yuri respond to it so sweetly, to share intimate vows and exchanges, eased Flynn’s heart. To him, their souls and hearts were already entwined; to him, already they were wed.

Beautiful, wonderful Yuri. Good men deserve better…

It felt like Fate finally descended, months after his twenty-first. She came and teased Flynn’s heart, his mind, then shoved it aside to seize the soul of Ba’ul. She gripped so painfully, so absolutely, both mortal and god were put to their knees in their hearts. He had decided already, hadn’t he?

Before Flynn marched out with the majority of the armor, the Don had asked for his counsel late at night. Flynn met the leader within his private chamber, already dressed for war, though he did not march until dawn. Don Whitehorse greeted him cheerfully, clapping a large hand on his shoulder as he normally did. Referred to him as ‘son’ like he did his actual children. After all, he knew Flynn would soon be a son by marriage. Everyone knew by this point.

“Zaphias’ barrier weakens every siege,” Whitehorse began once they sat. “However, as vexing as Alexei has been, that doesn’t mean we need to slaughter people. I want to go over plans with you to take Zaphias as quickly and with as little blood as possible.”

Flynn looked over the map the Don had pulled out. “You don’t want to spill innocent blood.” He replied in a neutral tone.

Whitehorse nodded. “Our enemy isn’t Zaphias. It’s Alexei. He started this war, so he alone should pay for it.”

 _Yet for twenty-one years, it was you who’ve been paying for it._ Flynn thought bitterly, continuing to stare at the map.

“Sire…” Flynn began, making Whitehorse stop with his plan of attack. “If you cannot spare good men and women… what do you do?”

The Don leaned back, looking Flynn over thoughtfully. “I’ve heard of your doubts.” He started slowly. “Yuri had been distressed that time you were suddenly an animal on the field, but once it seemed you calmed, he explained it to me. Flynn, those soldiers are doing what they believe is right and we can’t convince them otherwise. They fight for the country they love and are willing to die for it. We can’t spare them, because who knows what they might do… but we can give them the peace of mind that they did die for their country. Maybe it isn’t right, but we can end their crusade and justify their reason for fighting. And that will give them peace.”

Flynn looked up at him, eyes slightly wide, and Whitehorse went on, “Everyone questions what they’re fighting, why, and if they should keep doing it. Maybe not all the time, but eventually they do. I’m not at all surprised you finally have… you’ve been fighting a long time, like any of us. But this is something that’s higher than who is from Dahngrest or who’s from Zaphias… we’re all soldiers. And soldiers who have justification, who believe their reasons validated, can die with peace on the field. Maybe they think we’re monsters, maybe they think their death bought their beloved country time… but it helps. That’s why I am glad you are a commander, Flynn; save for that one instance, you always were respectful of the lives you took. You gave them their validation, and they died with inner peace.” Whitehorse stroked his heart, looking Flynn in the eye. “And that’s what you do with good men and women you can’t spare, Flynn. You give them the mercy of knowing they died for a good reason—their country.”

Flynn looked back to the map, the section labeled as Zaphias. “And so we give that mercy to the Zaphian soldiers… better they die believing that, then realizing they had been led astray by Alexei. Or some form of torturous existence.”

“I want to say Alexei wouldn’t torture any of his own people, but in a sense I guess he is with this war. So yes, son. Does that ease your mind?”

Flynn once more looked at the Don, and he smiled to him. “Thank you, sire,” He said quietly, “For everything. “

Whitehorse smiled back to him, glad to have been able to do something for one of his soldiers.

That thought, that feeling and smile, was what Flynn wanted to preserve when he chose that instant to strike.

With his divine-given power, Flynn drew his sword. Before Whitehorse could react, the magic-enchanted edge sliced through his neck and his head rolled. For several seconds, that peaceful, fatherly smile remained.

And now Flynn had crossed the point of no return.

He ran out of that room, and just as the guards outside turned to see what the problem was, he gave them the same quick death. All of them, good men… deserving a merciful, quick death that he knew Alexei and Phaeroh would deny them. He was the only one to have that humanly mercy.

Flynn ran all the way back to the wing his parents were resting, and by then the entire palace was clambering in alarm. Bodies were found. Bodies were made. By the time he reached them, his parents were awake and armed.

Judith was first. When Flynn burst through the doors, sword bloodied and tears streaking down his face, she misunderstood. Judith lowered her spear, reaching a hand out to her son, motherly concern all over her face.

Flynn loved his mother then more than ever. And he knew she’d also be a victim of Phaeroh if he failed this.

But he couldn’t bear to disfigure her like he did the other victims. With a quiet sob Flynn ran at her, and Judith barely had time to yell in surprise, let alone parry the sword aimed at her heart. It burst through her back, her blood spilled, and she put one arm around him to hang on.

Flynn gave her the mercy of dying on her feet. Told her, before she passed, that she was the most incredible mother any person could have had, and that he was sorry he was not truly her child. But despite that, he loved her.

Judith’s corpse hadn’t even hit the ground before an arrow shot through the air, finding that perfect slit between plate and chain to bury into Flynn’s shoulder. Flynn was knocked back a step, and when he followed the path of the arrow, Raven stood perched on the railing leading upstairs, his eyes already hard and devoid of any emotional attachment.

Flynn knew he had to face his mortal father as an enemy. The knowledge hurt. But good men had to be given validation.

Raven had the advantage of range, and if he were a normal human, Flynn would have been killed by the third shot. But Fate was against the nation of Dahngrest, bribed by Phaeroh’s promise of blood, and Raven’s blastia heart became his impairment. He wasn’t as quick as Flynn, but even still, he put his all into this fight. His son had turned traitor, his wife was dead… this battle was all Raven had left.

“Tell me why.” Raven growled through clench teeth as his folded bow parried Flynn’s sword.

The sword bounced off and Flynn spun it before going into a horizontal swing, of which Raven backstepped from. The edge sliced through the older man’s clothes, cut through the chainmail he had underneath and scratched the blastia jewel.

“I am Ba’ul, the son of the Zaphian god Phaeroh,” Flynn replied coldly. “Your son no longer exists, and now he is mine.”

It was, contextually, a lie.

But it was enough to give Raven that validation, to no longer hold back. But even still, in the end, Flynn broke through the veteran’s defense and buried his sword into Raven’s blastia heart, mixing Judith’s blood with his. The very same spot he stabbed his mother.

Yet even as Raven tensed in pain, Flynn embraced him, holding still as he waited for death to claim this one too. “Your son loved you,” he whispered. “It led to his weakness, so that I could take him.”

“Rot in hell, Zaphian,” Raven muttered, but when Flynn looked, he saw relief before death. Raven died knowing his own child’s true feelings for him… that this wasn’t him. There was a measure of peace in that.

The castle was ravaged within a few hours. Flynn had the mercy to put to death people he knew Alexei would go for to torture, to taunt—Prince Henry, Prince Karol, the other commanders like Niren, other nobles that were just visiting. Anyone with the political power to potentially challenge Alexei, Flynn hunted down and put to the sword. Soon the palace was empty.

No. Flynn lied. There was one room left.

_Betraying the destiny the God had given him,  
This man saved the Prince._

As much as he wanted to go to that room, to finish what he started, the bit of Ba’ul he let out was drowned once more by the feelings of his mortal self. He couldn’t do it, even as he tried to force himself. Good men deserved mercy… and if he didn’t… if he didn’t!

But he didn’t have to go to that room. The occupant came to him.

Yuri flew at him with sword in hand, screaming in rage. Flynn raised his sword to block it, and a shockwave of power ran through it. A normal man would have buckled. If Dahngrest had a god, then surely Yuri was its son, sent to oppose Ba’ul.

Whether or not it was true, it didn’t matter. Yuri came at him with every inch of rage and despair, their swords singing a cacophony of betrayal and confusion through the halls. But only frightened servants and corpses heard it, outside of themselves.

“Why?!” Yuri screamed as his sword slammed into Flynn’s, over and over. “Everyone… you killed everyone!! _Tell me why_!”

Were those tears glittering in Yuri’s eyes? It made Flynn’s heart crack. “I had to.” He whispered as they locked their swords. “It was mercy.”

“Mercy from what?!” Yuri shoved Flynn off his sword, and before the god-child could ready himself, the tip of Yuri’s sword plunged into his shoulder, digging the arrowhead still there further in. “You bastard! All this time… all this time!”

Flynn stumbled back from the hit, and then sidestepped the next swing. “From Phaeroh!” he yelled back, emotion choking his voice. “I’m not Flynn anymore, Yuri! I… I never was! All this time… I was Ba’ul, the son of the god Phaeroh… and this was my destiny!”

“ _Bullshit_!” Yuri brought his sword down from overhead, an easy to dodge swing, but the tears in his eyes froze Flynn so his sword embedded deeply into the top of Flynn’s shoulder just before his pauldron began. “You bastard… they trusted you… they loved you…”

Flynn knew that well. He saw it, every day, and it was going to haunt him for his immortal life. Even if he shed this skin, Ba’ul would remember, and those feelings would be in him forever.

“I love them.” Flynn muttered, even as Yuri jerked his sword free. But Flynn couldn’t feel it. He hurt far too much elsewhere to feel it. “I love them… and you. As Flynn, I love you all, this country… but Flynn can’t protect them. Can’t protect the country, or you.” He bowed his head for a moment, letting the emotions wrack him. He hoped Yuri would end it swiftly.

But Yuri never struck.

“You’re both useless.” Yuri spat, making Flynn look up. Despite the words, he saw it in Yuri’s eyes. He was the closest person to Yuri, that he could see the true feeling there in those dark depths, hear it under the mask he put over his voice. “Flynn and Ba’ul. I… both of you. I hate you both.”

It was a declaration Flynn never wanted to hear. It ripped through his being, and even Ba’ul… even Ba’ul, who loved Yuri too, could feel himself break.

Yet even if Yuri struck him, Flynn knew he wouldn’t die. Not yet. Phaeroh was working his magic, waiting for him to take Yuri down himself. Flynn knew he had to, because if he didn’t then a fate worse than this awaited his beloved.

But Flynn couldn’t do it. Looking into those angry, hurt eyes and seeing that raw emotion… Flynn couldn’t and he wouldn’t let Ba’ul do it.

“Run.” Flynn whispered. “Run, Yuri. And don’t look back.”

“Like hell I’m running away!”

“If you die here, Dahngrest dies… run. I can only do so much to defy my fate, but you… you can do so much more.”

_Now run, run away my precious you…  
Run, run away from this bloodstained me._

He expected Yuri to defy him, to continue the fight. But Yuri hesitated, because Flynn was right—he had killed Don Whitehorse, all of his other siblings. Yuri was the only of the bloodline left. And so long as one lived, then one day…

“You’re mine.” Yuri whispered fiercely. “In the end, it’ll be me that kills you. You’re mine, _do you understand me_?”

Flynn bowed his head, dropping to his knees for a moment. “I’ve always been yours.” He whispered. “In life, in death…”

Flynn didn’t look up when he heard Yuri’s footsteps run him away from the god-child, leaving him alone soon enough in a hall of death, blood and hopelessness.

Phaeroh might not have been pleased with that outcome, but in the end he seemed to not care. The signal was given, the divine promise fulfilled as Alexei’s armies came the next night as Dahngrest fell to chaos the next morning when it was revealed no one survived. Zaphias crushed what was left of the forces of Dahngrest, and by dawn it had become annexed into the Empire.

Alexei found Flynn still in the palace just waiting in the throne room, sitting in the spot the Don once sat. The Emperor approached him, and to Flynn’s disgust, he sank to one knee and thanked him. From then on, it was known by all, Zaphian and Dahngrest survivor alike, that Flynn was the son of Phaeroh. He was Ba’ul, the Promised Savior.

Dahngrest resented him, rightfully so. Even still, the Zaphian soldiers who invaded held a parade in Flynn’s honor, escorting him through the streets as if he were the Emperor himself.  In a matter of days Flynn’s feet left Dahngrest soil and when he came to the glittering, unmarred city of Zaphias he was a hero there as well. The Promised Savior, the one Phaeroh said would free the world of the tyranny that was the Don and his nation of Dahngrest.

 _Phaeroh was right,_ Flynn thought as he watched every single Zaphian revere him for his dark deeds. _There are no innocents in war._

Flynn couldn’t bear to turn around and look toward his homeland one more time. It would be for the best… wouldn’t it?

**_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~_ **

_I hate him._

Yuri slinked further along the dark halls, eyes narrowing as he heard the clanking armored footsteps of Zaphian search parties. They had reclaimed Zaude as well, of course, and although he was sure Alexei knew a Dahngrest royal yet lived he had failed at every turn at finding Yuri. The idiot didn’t know his own temple, but Yuri… he knew it inside and out. He and Flynn explored it several times over.

Now, instead of a place of peace and pleasant memories, it has become Yuri’s tomb. He didn’t have that many rations, and he knew eventually he’d get caught. He could only last so long here.

But as hopeless as it was, Yuri was determined. Conviction filled the fibers that hate did not, because he was going to kill the son of a bitch that took his family and home from him. Hate was too tame of an emotion.

Yet for all the hate bursting from his veins, underneath the roiling negativity was still a small light of love. And as fiercely as he held onto the hate, that love he also held close. It wasn’t his Flynn that killed his family. His Flynn that he loved more than the world… no, that was a good man. Somewhere in there he knew Flynn still existed, but that bastard Phaeroh’s son was in the way.

Ba’ul deserved to die, and Yuri was going to slit his throat if it was the last thing he did. Most likely, it would be.

 _We were going to tell the world._ Yuri thought as he slipped higher up the tower of Zaude, heading for the top. A part of him knew that was the safest place for him. _We were going to join in matrimony and show the world. We promised. We promised to bring prosperity to our home…_

This wasn’t the prosperity they promised. The war might be over… but Alexei killed so many in his descent. He didn’t care about the lives he took. He didn’t think Yuri’s people were humans too, and although Yuri had stealthily killed some of the soldiers, there was only so much he could do. His father was dead. His brothers. His people beaten and now under the rule of so called Emperor Alexei.

This was mercy, somehow?

Maybe those who died in the coup had mercy. But people like the citizens, like Yuri, who were spared death now had to suffer for what was left of their lives. Ba’ul had damned them all despite his so called _mercy_.

Days passed and Yuri prowled the halls of Zaude. The worshippers of Phaeroh only used the lower levels, the ones Yuri never went to. Anyone who was stupid to come to the higher levels, however, he killed. Whatever supplies they had he took, and that sustained him for a time. He could hear the rumors sometimes—that Phaeroh had declared the upper halls sacred and none should enter. It was off the fools and stupid that Yuri survived, for they tried to disprove these rumors.

Ironic, the god that led to their so-called salvation, they were so quick to blame for this.

He wasn’t sure how long he was going to stay here. Maybe forever. But a part of Yuri knew if he waited long enough… his prey would come to him. It was harsh, cruel, but he knew that whatever bit of Flynn was left would seek him out. Even now Yuri could feel that tug, that want to go find his lover. He knew Flynn would feel the same. And he knew Flynn would willingly give him the bastard that stole his everything. He would use Flynn’s own emotions against his true self.

So many suns and moons went by, Yuri wasn’t sure of the time anymore. He could feel his grip with reality slipping, his sanity trickling away. It was like madness was taking over him, and all he could think of was his revenge. It was his reason for existence; this was his new destiny.

 _Mercy_. Hah.

But salvation came. However many days, weeks, it might have been, Yuri heard it. Only one person would dare use the lift to come up to the very top of Zaude, and when it came to a stop his suspicion was confirmed. Clad in the bright, smug colors of Zaphias was none other than Flynn. No. Ba’ul.

There was a moment when things seemed to distort from reality. There was a haze as their eyes met, like the aer had gotten too thick all of a sudden. The only things in clarity in their vision was each other, and etched on the blond’s face was surprise and a fleeting moment of happiness.

Yuri ran at him, and Flynn didn’t pull out his sword. He actually opened his arms to him, and for one moment, Yuri let the madness go to pretend he could throw himself into those arms and wake up from this nightmare.

And then blade met flesh, and Flynn’s eyes widened.

Yuri buried the dagger to the hilt into Flynn’s heart, and the haze dissipated. Suddenly everything was sharp… too sharp, too perfect and clear in Flynn’s eyes. He looked down to see the weapon embedded in his mortal flesh, feeling the pain of both the wound and that of his heart burst through his body and soul.

He had a mortal’s body. He could die. Wasn’t that was Phaeroh said?

“I did it.” Yuri’s whisper brought Flynn’s eyes back up, and Yuri stared into those slowly dimming orbs. “For everyone. For Dahngrest. I killed the bastard.”

One of Flynn’s feet stepped back a little, trying to stay up as his blood dripped out of him, coursed through his body where it shouldn’t. His heart was punctured… didn’t he kill his own parents like this? The people he loved, he killed them just like this…

Yuri ripped the dagger out, causing Flynn to gasp, but before he could fall the prince wrapped his arms around him and held him up. Cradling him close, Yuri kissed his lips softly.

“Ba’ul took everything from us.” Yuri murmured to him. “But I killed him. For everyone, for Dahngrest and for us. I killed him… but you, Flynn. You’re my everything. And you’re completely mine.” He kissed him again. “In life. In death. Forever. You understand, Flynn?”

Flynn could hardly speak. He knew he had only one breath left, and he grasped weakly at Yuri’s clothes. “In life,” he gasped out. “In death… forever…”

Yuri held him tighter as Flynn’s grasp on his tunic failed, and the body went limp against his. Steeled in his decision, believing his destiny fulfilled, Yuri slowly made his way with Flynn’s body to the edge. There was no war beyond the mortal coil, Yuri believed.

They promised forever, in life and death. Keeping Flynn close, Yuri resolved to keep his promise. With that resolve, he stepped off the edge.

_Hence deceased the final prince, along with the rebellious Child of God,  
And the kingdom disappeared from the world._

**Author's Note:**

> Some lyrics are taken (and edited to better fit the story) from "The Chronicles of Resshikou ~The Emperor of Wailing Thunder~" from the Ar Tonelico CD, "Singing Hill ~Ar=Ciel Ar=Dor~". Said song is property of GUST. Translation props to Lazy from A Reyvatail's Melody forums.


End file.
